


Farm Boy

by Inforapoundd



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, If Ivar was a farm boy....., Mentions of Smut, Smut, younger man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inforapoundd/pseuds/Inforapoundd
Summary: What if Ivar was a farm boy and knocked on your door?
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Farm Boy

The blinds made a kinking sound as you pulled them down with two fingers to spy out. There he was. The same guy who had been working his way down your gravel road the last four days. Heaving away in the blazing sun, replacing the fence posts in the pasture across the way.

He was something. Tanned, muscular, with perfect hair, even perfectly mussed when he took off his old cowboy hat. Not that you had looked that closely when driving into town. But now, making his way down the half-mile of fence, he was working smack dab in front of your little house. One thing that stood out, even ahead of his unnatural hotness, he looked…young. A few years, at least, younger than you.

Ignore the boy, you told yourself, and get back to your deadline. Adding milk to whatever number of coffee you were now on, you plunked back into your seat at the kitchen table and stared at the lines of total crap typed across your screen.

Ten minutes, twenty… who knows, you had to pee and what was the harm in checking the farm boy’s progress on that endless fence.

Crunching down the blinds again you peered out, his old green Chevy, parked on a tilt beside the ditch was there, a grubby plastic jug sitting on the top of a round wooden post, but no sign of the hottie. Hmmm.

The knock on the front door made you jump, letting go of the blind so fast it snapped like lightening. Fuck, you let out a startled breath. No one had pulled into your driveway. Wait, could it be him???

Tip-toeing through your own house like a burglar, you made your way down the narrow hall, quickly glancing at your undone appearance in the mirror on the wall outside the kitchen. Holy hell, there was no taming that hair in this heat.

Turning the corner you saw his blurred outline through the frosted window in your front door. Yep, it was him. You could see the quaff of perfect hair and broad shoulders as he seemed to be looking down at the concrete step he stood on, one arm holding your old screen door open.

Move, you urged yourself.

Opening the door, you couldn’t help the absurd smile that spread across your face.

BLUE EYES.

Of course… they were almost neon blue against his gorgeous, tanned skin. A thin layer of sweat across the tiny pores on his face glistened from the mid-day heat and you had to wonder if you could see his pores, could he see yours? Great.

His eyes brightened and he smiled back one of those, yeah I know how good I look, kind-of smiles.

“Hey,” he said, as your eyes flicked down to his tight, white, t-shirt, rolled up on the biceps, making you realize some people were just naturally delicious.

“Hey,” you replied, transferring your weight onto one hip, working hard to sound breezy.

“Can I… ah, attach my hose to your bib?”

“What?”

You had no idea what your reaction looked like but it must have been ridiculous by the way he bit his puffy bottom lip, hiding a smirk.

“Ah,” turning, he glanced back toward his truck and the empty jug sitting on the post. “I’m working for the Garrisons,” he jerked his head indicating the neighbors. I ran out of water and I just want to refill my jugs. This heat,” he glanced up toward the sun, squinting one eye, “my mortar for the bases is hardening on me, real quick.”

Close your damn mouth, you blasted yourself, swallowing and nodding like you understood the struggle.

“Yeah, no worries. It’s just around the side… next to the deck.”

“Cool,” he glanced down, taking a step back, his hand still holding the screen door.

“Hey, ah…” he looked back up, his eyes dropping for a split second to your chest and you froze at the thought that there may be coffee stains, god forbid gravy, on the front of your old sundress.

“I’ve got a case of beer in my truck. Maybe… if I leave it here on your step, you can put it in your fridge for me. Keep it cold. I, ah… could swing back on my way home later. Maybe have a beer with you. I’ve seen you on your deck in the shade working on your computer a couple of times.”

“Umm…” came from your mouth as the image of him with his pants down around his knees, white untanned ass out, shuffling with you in his strong arms into your room, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hungry tongue shoved into your mouth, slamming you hard down onto your bed, flashed through your mind. You cleared your throat, “Yeah, sure,” practically feeling his hot breath on your neck as he drove his cock into you, swearing loudly at how good your wet pussy felt.

“Cool,” he nodded, scraping one of his dirty work boots back along the step, relaxing his hold on the screen door.

“Cool,” you replied.

“It’s a date then,” his eyes flitted back to yours, narrowing as if he could sense the ache already starting between your thighs.

“It’s a date,” you lifted your chin causally. Why did you keep repeating him?? 

With one last nod, he was off.

Closing the door, you listened to his boots crunch away toward the gravel road. Hurrying forward around the corner, you slammed your back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. There was only one thought booming in your head - MUST. SHAVE. LEGS.


End file.
